Three Little Hearts
Three Little Hearts
Behind the levee, three little hearts beat forth the rhythm of life.
Two boys ran through the desiccated legs of cornstalks. The ripe yellow heads were taken weeks ago by a large mechanized guillotine, leaving only rows of savaged green trunks and leafy detritus. What the combines left, the sun and insects claimed. The invasion of locusts was rich for a brief ecstasy in time, but quickly ate itself into poverty, and moved on to further conquests. The elderly, infirmed, and disabled (who, it must be said, could not be moved and would have died eventually) were left behind. It was this wobbly cohort of melancholy rejects that bore witness to what they took as three resettlers. When the kids approached, the bugs ceased their ruminations and did their best to flap out of the way.
The boys ran chaotically, giggling, imagining the grasshoppers that stirred and rose in flocks were pigeons in mighty courtyards of the Middle Ages. The birds built a spherical formation, and rose higher and higher, past the parapets and crenellated walls, right into the sun, swarming –Oh! He was watching them rise, and fell! He skimmed his shoulder and got dust in his eye— blinking, he watched descend not birds but hard, angry insects with edged wings and clawed feet.
“oooow, ow, ow.” He whimpered. His brother stopped running, and looked down at him. The fallen one pushed himself up on one elbow and one stiffly outstretched arm. He looked at the dust covering his arms. He felt his shoulder burning. The dirt in his eye elicited moisture, and he was unsure if he would release an ablution of tears to purify his wounded spirit. He glanced to his companion, who was standing over him, still breathing heavy. There was sympathy in his eyes, but it clung to the periphery like eyeliner. In the center were orbs of magic, still full of life and joy and play. “He he haaa!” He laughed. The other, still lying, was washed clean of his fears and thoughts of pain, laughed, and jumped up. To the kingdom! They laughed and turned to chase the invaders once again through the courtyard, as flocks of pigeons rose to avoid the gallant archer and dashing swordsman.
A girl squatted near the bottom of the levee at the frontier of the grassy watershield and the monochrome farmland behind it. She was holding a dead grasshopper, looking closely at each detail. She imagined she was Lewis and Clark, or maybe Marco Polo (she couldn’t remember which had come through this area), looking for the first time at a new creature with the eye of a trained explorer. Color: Yellow, brown, and black. Size: About twice the length of a pointer finger. Smell: Dirt, or nothing. She turned it over to look at the bottom, with its legs curled up to form a rib cage it never had. The external covering of the wings looked like a brown and black cornhusk. She moved this, exposing the wing, which she pulled gently until it broke off. She held the fragment up to her eye. Clear. She must add the color “clear” to her observations. The movement behind the wing distracted her, and shifted her focus. She saw the boys and lowered the wing. Rocking backwards on her heals, she stood up, and brushed the charcoal black hair from her bright amber eyes.
“Hey boys!” she hollered. “Look! Did you know that grasshoppers were clear?”
The boys diligently opened the velum parchment embossed with the royal seal: an appeal from the Princess of the Great Wall. Their immediate presence was required. They broke off their attack on the Plainsman’s Castle, and set their heels towards the lush green faraway land.
A moment later, they arrived shouting and swinging their arms to parry and return épée thrusts. They dodged anachronistic grenade blasts moments before finding safety on the soft, sloping levee walls.
“Look!” she said, displaying on her open palm the discombobulated grasshopper cadaver, autopsied to reveal both semi-translucent wings, some severed legs, the rest of the body, and a piece of grass. The boys huddled closely for a moment, not really knowing for what they were looking. They excitedly grabbed her hand, as if steadying themselves on their first ice-skating experience.
“See”, she demonstrated, “ it’s clear!”
A few quick oohs and aws pushed hot breath across the scandalized little bug, and then the shadow of Cessna on approach to land at the nearby airport swept overhead, drawing the stares of the boys.
“Look out!” one said “it’s the Cobra!”
“Ah!” the other dived out of the way, narrowly dodging strafing fire.
Tchk-tchk-tchk-tchk-tchk! He mimicked gunfire, spittle flying from his pursed lips.
And they were gone again. Running and rolling through the field. She watched them, and thought about what might be really happening inside of them. She was only 4 years older than they were, but she was much more attuned than they were to the emotional tide of their home. When one would get sores in his mouth, or the other would cough in tuberculoid rattles, she would notice—while they would miss—the echoing gasps of their mother crying in the kitchen, or the maquillage smile worn by their father. His eyes were deep and sad, as if pulled deeper into his body by the weight of the boys’ pills that he distributed. She encountered the battleground of tear and whiskey stained countertops, the remnants of last night’s battle of My fucking disease? Oh, it’s just killing you to watch them suffer? Pretty fucking funny! I’m the one that gave it to them; you don’t think I fucking know how much it hurts? It’s killing me too, you know!
Still, there was no way of telling what was wrong—something bad, she knew, but what? She didn’t know. She didn’t think about it, unconsciously trusting that if it was important to know, their parents would tell her.
She watched them dodge dragons and join dogfights. One of them fell. Are those cornstalks sharp? She felt a tinge of protectiveness. Yes, they were living not knowing that anything was wrong. She knew this, and she didn’t know enough to ruin it for them, but they were still alive and vulnerable. She dropped the grasshopper, and ran towards them yelling “Hey guys, be careful! Those things are sharp!”